“Nonsense. I have a lovely room at The Montgomery.”
My eyes widen. “Swanky.”
“It is very nice and I’m told it has a lovely brunch on the weekends.” Poppy squeals then grabs her phone. “I nearly forgot. I got my new covers for my next trilogy.” She swipes against her screen, then holds the phone out to me. “Check out this hotness.”
Sweet, unassuming Poppy with her posh British accent writes filthy science fiction romance about wicked aliens and the human females they rescue from the evil space sex trade industry. She’s brilliant and so talented. The covers are super sexy and very eye catching.
“They’re awesome. You’ll sell a billion copies.”
“That would be bloody brilliant.”
“Did you fix your plot hole?” she asks me.
“No. I think I’ve got the hero all wrong. That’s got to be the problem. I might need to go back to the drawing board, recast his entire character.”
She nods. “I’ve had to do that. Once just changing his name helped unlock him for me. Sometimes characters are bothersome like that.”
Chapter 7
Jason
I’m having a hard damn time focusing on my buddies and coworkers at happy hour. Mostly because Sam and some other woman are sitting across the bar in a side booth.
I can’t stop watching her. Wondering if they’re talking about me and what Sam and I did in the elevator. I shift in my seat. Now is not the fucking time to get an erection when I’m at the bar with all of my co-workers.
“Who’s that with Sam?” Gabe asks.
I glare at him.
“It’s a friend of hers from England,” Cade answers.
“Well, she’s cute, whoever she is,” Gabe says.
“Cute?” Noah scoffs. “Son, you’re blind. Both of those women are hot as fuck. Did you see Sam’s pretty yellow shirt today?”
I think I might have just growled at my friend. But the fucker knows how I feel about Sam.
“I’ve always thought Sam was hot, but I thought she was off limits,” Gabe says.
“She is,” I bark.
Cade chuckles. “Jason and Sam are together.”
“No, they’re not,” Noah says with a smirk.
“I just assumed.” Cade shrugs and downs his beer. “I’m not staying too much longer, fellas, I gotta get home to my woman.”
“If she’s not off limits, I’m going to ask her out,” Gabe muses.
“Do it and I’ll fucking rip out your throat.” I realize I’ve grabbed onto the man’s shirt. I loosen my grip and shove him backwards.
Gabe holds his hands up and grins widely at me.
Noah leans over to me like he’s going to share a secret with me, but doesn’t bother whispering. “You do know you just threatened a former Green Beret.”
I don’t stop glaring at Gabe.
“Well, I’m going to go talk to them.” Noah stands and leaves the table.
I watch him walk over to Sam’s table and she stands and gives him a hug. I nearly break the glass in my hand.
Cade stands to leave and bends down to say just to me. “Word of advice, don’t wait too long before you tell her how you feel. She won’t wait around forever.” He pats me on the shoulder, then turns to go.
I follow after him. “Cade.”
He stops to face me. “Need something?”
“It’s just that don’t you think she deserves someone better than me. Someone without my past transgressions?”
“You’ll have to ask her that. But don’t you think she should get to make that decision? Not you making it for her?”
“Yeah, but then I’ll have to tell her the truth about who I am. What I’ve done.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Jason, she already knows. She’s read your personnel file. She’s read all of them. She’s office manager, that’s part of her job.”
“She knows?”
He nods, squeezes my shoulder, then walks off.
Why didn’t she ever say anything? Because I never gave her a chance to.
I storm across the room and make my way to Sam’s booth. “We need to talk,” I say directly to her.
“Well, hello Jason, this is my friend, Poppy. In case it has escaped your attention that I’m not alone.”
I glance at the woman across from Sam. Noah is sitting next to her looking pretty damn cozy. “Nice to meet you,” I say. Then I shove my way onto the bench seat next to Sam. I put my hand on her thigh and squeeze. “We need to talk,” I say again.
“I can’t tonight. You’ll have to wait. I’m having a girl’s night out.”
“With Noah? I don’t fucking think so.”
Sam’s phone rings and she digs into her purse until she pulls it out. A glance at the screen shows it’s her sister calling. “I’ve got to take this.” She answers with a swipe. “Rachel?” She frowns. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Let me go outside.”
I stand to let her out and I’m about to follow her because she shouldn’t stand outside of a bar alone at night.
“Jason, stay please. I’d like to chat,” Poppy says. “I’m sure Noah will go outside and keep an eye on Sam to ensure her safety.”
Noah nods and stands and I’m reluctant, but I let him go. Because if Sam’s best friend wants to talk to me, something tells me I should listen. I sit back in the booth and meet the woman’s gaze.
“I’m assuming you want to tell me what an asshole I am,” I say.
She gives me a slight nod. “I don’t think I can tell you anything you haven’t considered yourself where that’s concerned. What I want to know is how you feel about my girl Sam.”
I know she means it in a friendship way, but hearing someone else call Sam their girl irritates the fuck out of me.
“How I feel about her is irrelevant.”
“Well, I hardly think that’s true. I can tell you that as a fellow romance author, Sam and I are all about feelings and emotion. We’re in the business of feelings and emotions. Romance readers read for that very reason. They want to feel. They want to fall in love again and again.”
“Doesn’t that imply that their own love-lives aren’t fulfilling enough?”
“Of course not. It’s a statistical fact that women who read romance have more sex and more sexually satisfying sex with their partners and the majority of them are married.”
“Then why the need to fall in love repeatedly?”
“It’s the rush of it. The way your skin feels tight when you see Sam walk into a room. Or the way your heart pounds with a mere glimpse of her smile. Searching lotions and shampoos at the store to try to pinpoint the exact scent she wears.” Poppy smiles widely. “Sweaty palms, pervasive thoughts that interrupt everyday activities…”
“Wait,” I hold up a hand because I’m beginning to panic that this little British woman is actually a spy with MI6. “How do you know all of that?” I know that every time I’ve sniffed shampoo bottles at the drugstore I checked to make sure I was alone.